


Mr. Hale's Boytoy

by tangowhiskey



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Is A Hale, M/M, Parent Derek, Single Parent Derek, Top Derek Hale, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 08:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1737635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangowhiskey/pseuds/tangowhiskey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is 39, and some would say he's a DILF. A lot of the women - and some men, too - in Beacon Hills want to get into his pants. However, he's only got eyes for Stiles. </p><p>The only problem, however, is that Stiles is 17, and his son's friend. But Derek's about to find out that Stiles can be quite persuasive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Hale's Boytoy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the kinkmeme. I was halfway through this when I re-read the prompt and realised that it should have have been about Derek pursuing Stiles rather than the other way around, so I decided to write one chapter from Stiles' point-of-view (this one) and the second chapter from Derek's p.o.v.
> 
> The second chapter will fill in some more background details that have been glossed over here, such as what happened between Stiles and Jackson.
> 
> I kind of rushed the whole Isaac/Allison/Scott thing, as it's not the central focus of the story, plus Isaac needs some love, so... And it might seem a bit rushed between Derek and Stiles too, because I'm not great at writing angst.
> 
> Finally, this wouldn't be considered underage where I'm from as Stiles is 17, but as it's based in California, it's been tagged as underage.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Alright, listen up all of you!” calls Coach Finstock at the start of class. “We’ve got a new student joining us today. This is Isaac Lahale.” He gestures towards a tall, lanky boy dwarfing him. Turning to Isaac, he says “What kind of name is ‘Lahale’ anyway? French?”

The boy rolls his eyes and mutters, “It’s Hale.”

Finstock frowns and says, “No, I’m pretty sure it’s Lahale.”

The boy scoffs. “And I’m pretty sure I know my own name.”

That causes the class to break out into laughter and for Finstock to blush. “Alright, settle down.” Checking his list, he says, “Oh. You’re right. It _is_ Hale.”

“You don’t say,” the boy says sarcastically.

Unable to control it, Stiles snorts loudly.

Looking up sharply, Finstock pinpoints the cause of the noise. “Bilinski! Just for that, you can mentor Hale for the rest of the week. Show him around and make sure he settles in. If he doesn’t, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”

“Coach, that isn’t fair,” Stiles whines.

To that, Finstock responds, “Life’s not fair, and then you die.” Turning to Isaac, he says, “Take a seat beside Bilinski, Hale.”

Isaac moves down the aisle, winks at Allison who’s sitting in front of Stiles, who brushes a strand of her hair behind her ear subconsciously before he takes the seat to Stiles’ right.

Stiles waves at Isaac from where he sits. “Hey, I’m Stiles.”

Isaac frowns at him. “Your name is Stiles Bilinski?”

Stiles groans and lightly bangs his head off the desk.

Allison turns around, flashes Isaac a toothy smile and says, “It’s Stiles _Stilinski_. And I’m Allison.” Stiles frowns into the desk and subtly removes his phone from his pocket. He sends a text to Allison, _Stop flirting with the new guy!_ She continues, “So, welcome to Beacon Hills.”

“Thanks,” Isaac says.

Before they can interrogate the newbie, Finstock starts the lesson, but not before Stiles gets a text back from Allison saying, _Shut up, Bilinski!_

****

They’ve got a free period after that when Miss Blake fails to turn up for English. Stiles takes it as a prime opportunity to show Isaac around the school.

He shows him the cafeteria, the library, the senior study room and the lacrosse pitch.

“That’s pretty much it,” Stiles says apologetically. “We’re not a very big school.”

“You guys have lacrosse here?” Isaac asks.

“Uh... yeah.”

“Cool. I like this school.”

Isaac seems easy to please, which bodes well for him if he’s going to be living in Beacon Hills.

****

“So, what’s your deal?” Scott asks as they’re standing at the lockers during lunch later in the week. Scott hadn’t had the chance to interrogate Isaac beforehand, and had taken the first possible opportunity to do so.

“Dude!” Stiles scolds him at the same time as Allison says, “Scott!”

He looks between the two of them and mouths, “What?”

Isaac tenses up, but he answers the question nonetheless. “Not much to tell,” he says. “Dad got a job here and it was time for a fresh start. So we decided to make the move. That’s it.” And for most people, Isaac’s tone is enough to say ‘I’m done talking about this’.

Unfortunately, Scott isn’t most people. “Yeah, but Beacon Hills?” Scott continues. “Hardly the most exciting place in the world.”

Stiles groans as Alison slaps his arm. Stiles loves Scott like a brother, but his lack of tact really is a sight to behold.

“There’s worse places out there,” Isaac says sharply.

“C’mon you,” Allison says as she drags Scott away for lunch before his mouth can do anymore damage.

“Sorry about Scott,” Stiles says. “He tends to open his mouth before his brain can engage.”

Isaac sighs. “It’s fine. I guess I shouldn’t have snapped at him.”

“He’ll get over it,” Stiles says.

“I should apologise anyway,” Isaac says as he chews his lip.

“So, uh, anyway,” Stiles says trying to change the subject. “Give me your phone and I’ll give you my number. So if there’s anything you need, like help moving in or whatever, you can ask me. I’m the sheriff’s kid; if I don’t know something about Beacon Hills and its people, then it’s not worth knowing.”

Isaac hands over his phone and Stiles inputs his number.

“I do have one question,” Isaac says.

“Shoot,” Stiles says.

“Allison and Scott -”

“Oh, no, don’t go there,” Stiles says. “Those two are meant for each other and I won’t stand by and watch you come between them.”

Isaac chuckles. “I don’t want to come between them.”

Stiles frowns. “What?”

“Actually, that’s not strictly true,” Isaac says more to himself than to Stiles.

“Allison wasn’t flirting with you earlier,” Stiles says. “You do know that, right?”

“I don’t want Allison,” Isaac says.

“Wha -? Scott?! You want _Scott?!_ ”

“Nope,” Isaac says. “I don’t want either. I want _both_. Do you think they’d be interested in that?”

“ _Both?_ ” Stiles exclaims, “You want to be in a threesome with them?”

Isaac tuts. “Don’t be so repressed, Stiles. I don’t want a threesome, I want to be in an open relationship with them.”

“You don’t even know them!” Stiles exclaims.

Isaac shrugs. “I don’t see the point in wasting time and being angst-y. I’d rather live for the moment. I know what I want and I go and get it.”

****

“Seriously?” Scott asks.

“It’s what he said,” Stiles replies. “He doesn’t seem to be the type to kid around.”

They’re sitting around a table outside, eating lunch. Isaac had duly apologised to Scott for snapping at him and Scott had accepted. Isaac then left them to talk to the Finstock about joining the lacrosse team.

“An open relationship?” Scott says disbelievingly, although he’s calm and not freaking out like Stiles thought he would.

Stiles shrugs and nods.

Scott turns to Allison. “Can you believe this?”

Allison swallows the bite of sandwich and smirks. “He _is_ kinda cute. I’ve heard worse ideas.”

“Allison!” Stiles squawks.

“What do you think?” Allison asks Scott, ignoring Stiles.

Scott thinks it over for a few seconds. “I guess we could try it out for a while.”

“Scott!” Stiles squawks again.

“I mean we’d have to test him, sound him out, to see what he’s like,” Allison says, whilst Scott nods in agreement, both ignoring Stiles. “And we’d need terms so that there’s no tension between us. But I’m onboard if he passes the test.”

Scott nods. “Cool.” And he goes back to eating his lunch as if they’d just discussed what movie they were going to see after school.

“Are you two serious?!” Stiles asks.

“Don’t be a prude, Stiles,” Allison says with a smirk. All of his friends are aware of his sexual history. “How is Jackson, by the way?”

He decides to ignore the jab. “I’m not a prude and I’m not repressed,” Stiles says defensively. “It’s just this kid turns up and in the same week you two agree to having a threesome with him?”

“An open relationship,” Allison and Scott correct him at the same time.

****

All in all it’s been a very weird first week back for Stiles, in between a new kid arriving at school, and said new kid telling him that he wants to be in a relationship with his best friend _and_ his girlfriend.

He’s one of the last to leave on the first Friday back, and is out in the car park about to unlock his jeep when he spots Isaac on the phone looking agitated. Without meaning to, he eavesdrops on the conversation.

“Dad, I can’t; I’ve only got the bike. Can’t you do it?”

Whilst listening to the response, Isaac rolls his eyes and Stiles feels like he should offer the kid some help.

“Fine! I’ll work it out,” Isaac snaps as he hangs up.

“Hey, Isaac,” Stiles says apprehensively as he approaches Isaac. “You need some help?”

“Dad wants me to pick up some pizzas for dinner, but I haven’t got anywhere to put them.”

“Oh,” says Stiles. “I’ve got the jeep, we can put the bike in it and I’ll drop you home, if you want?”

Isaac visibly relaxes. “Thanks, Stiles. That would help a lot. Dad’s not normally like this, he’s stressed out from moving. Hey, you should stay for dinner if you’re gonna be helping me out.”

His dad’s at work until midnight and he’ll only be home alone anyway, so for that reason alone he says, “Sure. Why not?”

****

What Stiles didn’t know about Isaac was that he and his dad had moved out to the dun-down house on the edge of the forest. It was originally two-stories, but Stiles can make out that the roof has been fully converted, giving an impressive three-storey house. The grounds of the house stretch on for miles, farther than Stiles can see. 

“Woah, dude,” Stiles says as he slows down along the driveway. “You live _here_?”

“Uh-huh,” Isaac says.

“Your dad must be rich,” Stiles says in amazement as he stares at the house.

“He makes enough to get by,” Isaac shrugs.

Stiles parks the jeep beside a delivery truck, and the two jump out to remove Isaac’s bike from the trunk. As they do so, the front door of the house opens to reveal a tall, muscular man who can’t be older than forty, dressed in rather tight jeans and a dark henley - both leaving rather little to the imagination - shaking hands with two delivery men.

Stiles notices the man first and says to Isaac, “Who’s that?”

Isaac looks over at the door, frowning, expecting to see a stranger. His face relaxes when he sees the man and says as if it’s obvious, “My dad.”

And no, it’s not obvious; Isaac’s dad is far too young to have a son as old as Isaac. Although, Stiles is glad to see that the good-looking genetics have been passed on to Isaac from his dad.

Isaac opens the garage to store his bike, and Stiles grabs the pizzas from the backseat of the jeep as the delivery truck pulls away from the house. Isaac’s dad walks over to Stiles, but, fortunately for Stiles, Isaac returns before Stiles is forced to awkwardly introduce himself to his new friend’s father.

“Dad, this is Stiles,” Isaac says. “Stiles, this is my dad, Derek.”

Derek offers a hand and Stiles shakes it. He’s got a strong grip. “Welcome, Stiles. It’s good to put a face to the name. Isaac has talked a lot about you,” he says. He’s got a strong, sexy voice too.

“Dad!” Isaac whines in a you’re-embarrassing-me-shut-the-hell-up kind of way.

“Hi, Mr. Hale,” Stiles says. “It’s good to meet you.”

“Please, call me Derek,” he says. And that’s weird; he’d been raised to always address his elders formally, but then again, Derek is hardly that much of an elder.

“Oh, I’ve invited Stiles to dinner,” Isaac says to Derek.

“Great. Let me give you a hand,” Derek says to Stiles and takes the pizza boxes from him before going back inside.

Stiles would rather have Derek’s hand somewhere else, but still. He and Isaac follow Derek inside the house.

“Dad, can Stiles and I have a beer?” Isaac asks. Stiles wouldn’t even dream of asking his father that, even if he weren’t the sheriff.

Derek laughs. “I don’t think so, Isaac. Sorry boys. There’s coke in the fridge. You can get me a beer though, kid.”

Isaac just grumbles and heads for the kitchen, whilst Stiles follows Derek into the living room.

“Make yourself at home,” Derek says to Stiles. “Sorry the place is still a mess. We only moved in last week.”

Stiles takes his phone out of his pocket to make himself more comfortable, and places it on the couch’s armrest.

“So Stiles, Isaac tells me you’re the sheriff’s son,” Derek says.

“That’s right,” Stiles says. “So if you need any parking tickets torn up, you know the right guy.”

Derek throws his head back a little and laughs. Fuck, that’s a nice sound. Derek’s got a nice throat, Stiles wonders what it’d be like to kiss his way down the stubble and -

“Stiles?” Isaac says with some concern.

Stiles snaps back and sees Isaac holding a glass out for him. “Thanks, man,” Stiles says accepting the glass from Isaac. He chances a glance over at Derek and sees the man looking at him strangely. Like he’s trying to figure what the deal was with Stiles’ little daydream.

“He’s not interrogating you, is he?” Isaac asks Stiles.

“Uh... No. No, of course not,” Stiles says.

“Ignore him,” Derek says. “Isaac thinks he’s funny.”

“Funnier than you, old man,” Isaac shoots back.

Derek clutches his chest over his heart in a dramatic fashion. “You wound me, boy.”

Stiles can’t help laughing at the two of them; Isaac and Derek remind him of himself and his father and it’s good to see that they share the same sense of humour as him.

They eat their pizzas in relative silence, and Stiles can’t help glancing over at Derek every now and again; he’s sure he’s not all that subtle because Derek catches him more often than not and smirks at him when Isaac isn’t looking.

And Stiles doesn’t think he’s imaging it when the bulge in Derek’s pants grows a little bit more obvious. And Stiles definitely doesn’t imagine it when Derek grins at him. Stiles grins right back.

Before Stiles knows it, he’s spent most of the evening and night in the Hale house, and so makes a hasty exit when he realises that his dad’ll be home from work soon and will worry when there’s no-one in the house. He also doesn’t want to overstay his welcome.

He bids both Hales goodbye and when he’s finally in the privacy of his jeep, he palms himself through his jeans. He groans at the feeling; sitting opposite Derek for the past five hours had been practical torture.

He’s never wanted to jump someone’s bones before now. Sure, Derek is handsome; gorgeous, even, but Stiles doesn’t think that all it is. Even though he’s only spent a couple of hours with him, he knows Derek’s a good father. And it’s not like he’s got daddy issues. Why couldn’t Derek be twenty years younger; then there wouldn’t be a problem.  
 He sleeps deeply that night and it’s no surprise to him when a certain parental figure makes his way into his dreams.

****

The following day, Stiles realises that he’s missing his phone. He searches high and low, but it’s nowhere to be found. He must have misplaced it between school and... _Isaac’s house_! That’s where it is. It obviously slid down the couch when he removed it from his pocket the night before. It’s not like he can call Isaac to ask if it’s there and he doesn’t even know if the Hales have a landline. He’ll just have to drive over in the hope that someone’s there and that they’ll have his phone.

It takes him about fifteen minutes to drive across town to get to the Hales. He gets out of his jeep and hears the unmistakeable sound of a lawnmower. At least someone’s here, he supposes.

He follows the sound of the lawnmower to the side of the house and there, greeting him is the the back of one shirtless, sweaty Mr. Hale. He’s wearing nothing but shorts and trainers. He’s got sunglasses on and earphones in from his iPod which in his pocket.

Stiles gets hard there and then - a back really shouldn’t be that sexy - and readjusts himself before Mr. Hale can see it.

When Mr. Hale gets to the end of the strip of lawn he’s mowing, he turns around and starts in the direction of where Stiles is standing.

Fuck, the front is even sexier than the back. Mr. Hale’s body is a work of the gods. Stiles wants to run his hand over his six-pack and play with Mr. Hale’s nipples. Mr. Hale has a light covering of chest hair that’s matted down due to the sweat. And he’s freeballing, too. Stiles involuntarily licks his lips.

Lost in his little daydream, Stiles fails to hear the sound of the mower’s engine shutting down.

“Stiles?” Mr. Hale calls out as he removes the earphones. The man walks over to Stiles and Stiles wills his hard-on to die down, or at the very least become less obvious.

“Hey- Hey, Mr. Hale,” Stiles says. “How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Mr. Hale says, pushing his sunglasses up to the top of his head; he’s got gorgeous eyes. “And I’ve told you before, call me Derek.” He says that with a flash of his teeth and a beautiful smile. “Isaac isn’t around, I’m afraid. He’s out with Scott and Allison. Didn’t he tell you?”

“I’m actually here because I’ve lost my phone and I think it might be here,” Stiles says.

“Oh,” is all Derek says.

“Do you mind if I go and check?” Stiles prompts.

“Oh!” Derek says realising his mistake. “Of course, go ahead.”

“Thanks, Mr- Thanks, Derek.”

Stiles goes back around the corner to the front door and enters the house and heads straight for the living room. He looks under the couch first, finds it empty and then searches behind the cushions and reaches in behind the seats, and... _bingo!_ he’s found the phone.

Leaving the living room more relieved than when he entered it, he hears Derek coming into the house.

“I was gonna check if you got lost,” Derek jokes.

Stiles laughs a little harder than necessary. It really wasn’t that funny. “I found it,” Stiles says as he lifts up the phone needlessly.

“Great,” Derek says with a wide smile. “I was just gonna get a drink. You want one?”

“Uh...” Stiles says. He should say ‘no’ and get the fuck out of the house. Instead he says, “Sure. Thanks.”

Derek grabs two bottles of water from the fridge and hands one to Stiles.

“I guess I’ve forgotten how hot it can get around here,” Derek says as he grabs a towel that’s flung over one of the chairs. He drys his hair of the sweat before patting down his torso.

Stiles tries not to stare; he fails miserably. “You’re from around here originally, then?”

“Uh-huh, Californian-born and bred,” Derek says as he slips on a tank-top. “In fact, this is my childhood home. But we’ve been living in Seattle for most of Isaac’s life.” Leaning against the counter, Derek continues, “Speaking of Isaac, I wanted to thank you for being so welcoming to him. It’s not easy being the new kid and I know it can be fun to mess with the newbies, so I appreciate the effort you made. He’s settled in quicker than I thought he would and I guess I’ve got you to thank for that, so, thank you.”

Stiles blushes. “Oh, it was nothing. I’m glad he transferred here.”

Derek chuckles and then a silence settles over them.

“You must have been really young when you had him,” Stiles says by way of breaking the silence. See, it’s not only Scott that speaks before he thinks. Mortified, he then says, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Derek laughs. “It’s okay, I was. I was 22 when Isaac was born, I was still in college just finishing my undergrad exams when his mom when into labour.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that Isaac had a mother,” Stiles says. _Seriously, brain?_ Derek laughs again. “I meant -”

“I know what you meant, Stiles. He... uh, we - his mother and I - agreed that she wasn’t in the right headspace to raise a child, and I had my family to support me, so it was a no-brainer that I’d raise him,” Derek says. “I’ve never looked back.”

“He’s a great guy,” Stiles says. “I guess that’s a reflection of you.”

“Thanks,” Derek says with a smile. “Although he’s not always been an easy kid. I guess that’s why I’ve started going a bit grey.” He points towards his temples where there’s definitely some grey hairs growing through.

Instead of that serving as a reminder that Derek is much older than him, it just turns Stiles on more. “I dunno,” he says. “It’s a good look on you.”

Derek smirks, whilst Stiles cringes and scratches the back of his head nervously. “Anyway,” Stiles says. “I should be going. Thanks for the drink.”

“No problem, Stiles,” Derek says. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

****

The first month of school flies by in a haze of homework, preparations for exams (already) and - for Stiles - increased horniness; the amount of dreams that Derek has been starring in is getting ridiculous.

It probably doesn’t help that Allison, Scott _and_ Isaac finally became a thing a few days ago and had slept together for the first time. Stiles had been fascinated in the mechanics of their relationship, but realised that his best friend was involved and that was just... no.

Just before their first lesson of the day with Miss Blake, Allison takes the seat in front of Stiles and grins like a Cheshire cat.

“What’re you smiling at?” Stiles asks grumpily. He needs to get laid; his right hand’s just not doing it for him any more.

“Scott, Isaac and I had a little us-time last night.”

“Oh for fuck -”

Allison slaps his arm. “Don’t be jealous. It’s not a good colour on you.” Stiles doesn’t entertain her the way she wants, so she continues, “He’s a big boy. Isaac, that is.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. He _really_ doesn’t need to know any details.

“I wonder if he gets that from his dad,” she continues.

Stiles nearly chokes on his water.

She rolls her eyes at him. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you staring at Mr. Hale. I don’t blame you, he’s hot. And there’s no harm in looking, is there?”

He knows she’s just teasing him, but he still feels the need to say something. “Allison -”

“As long as it’s just looking,” she says, looking at him concerned. “Promise me you won’t act on it, Stiles.”

“Of course I won’t,” Stiles says. “What do you take me for?”

She looks at him for a few seconds more, but before he can actually promise her he’ll look but not touch, Isaac and Scott join them, both looking like the cats that got the cream.

“I wanna thank you all for welcoming me,” Isaac says to all three of them. “It’s made the move so much easier. So, how about a party at my place next Friday? We’re still fixing up the house, but Dad says it’ll be done by next week. Plus, he’s away all of next weekend for work.”

They all readily agree to the party and Isaac smiles that adorably angelic, puppy-dog smile of his.

****

Angelic Isaac? Yeah, no. Try demonic.

Stiles, Allison and Scott arrive at the house on Friday night and find that half their year are already at the party.

“He invited the lacrosse team too,” Scott says to Stiles. “He didn’t realise Jackson was on the team until it was too late.”

“It’s fine,” Stiles says quickly. _It’s so not fine_.  
 Of course, Jackson would have to be here. As the three of them walk into the house, Jackson is standing in the hallway talking to some of his teammates, his back to Stiles.

Allison and Scott try and usher him past Jackson without him seeing them, but the teammates Jackson is talking to aren’t so subtle.

They look over at Stiles and, when Jackson realises they aren’t paying attention to him, turns around and looks at Stiles. He sneers at Stiles.

“You got say something, Whittemore?” Scott snarls.  “Leave it, Scott,” Stiles says as Allison grabs his arm to hold him back. Stiles is eternally grateful for his friend’s loyalty, but he just wants to forget Jackson and his little posse of rich-boy immaturity.

Jackson flicks his eyes from Stiles to Scott, looking bored. “Not to you, neanderthal.”

Jackson’s about to turn his back to the two of them, when Scott growls. Jackson turns around, but before Scott can punch him, Isaac emerges from the living room and it’s obvious that he’s just witnessed the silent confrontation between Stiles and Jackson, and the not-so-silent confrontation between Scott and Jackson.

Isaac steers the three of them into the living room and away from Jackson.

“Don’t feel bad,” Isaac says. “Jackson’s a jackass. That was clear to me the moment I met him. I’m sorry I invited him.”

Stiles just groans.

“We need to get you drunk,” Isaac says decisively.

Stiles should say no, should wallow in self-pity, but, hey, maybe getting drunk’s a good alternative.

****

Stiles isn’t drunk. He _isn’t_. He’s only had one or two beers. Maybe three, but he’s definitely not drunk. And the room is definitely not spinning.

When the room stops not spinning, Isaac comes up to him and says, “Dad’s just called me, his meeting’s been cancelled and he’s on the way home. Everyone else is clearing off, but you can stay here tonight.”

Huh, he must have passed out. But he’s not drunk. Definitely not. Tipsy, maybe.

“Your dad’ll tell mine though, won’t he?” Stiles grimaces.

“Nah, Derek’s cool,” Isaac says. “You should get some air, though, so that you don’t look like you’re gonna throw up at a second’s notice.”

Stiles complies, goes outside and sits on the porch, closing his eyes to block the world out.

What feels like five seconds later, he’s shaken awake by Isaac and he opens his eyes to Derek parking his Toyota outside the garage. Derek’s got a face like thunder and Stiles can’t help but think that shit’s about to go down. Stiles also notices that Derek’s wearing glasses, and _seriously, glasses_? Stiles has never thought he’d have a glasses kink, but apparently he does. Derek’s gonna kill him, either through his raw sex appeal, or for getting drunk; one or the other. Hopefully it’s the former.

“Your dad looks pissed,” he mutters to Isaac.

Isaac looks over to the car. “Nah, dad always looks like that.”

“He doesn’t know about the party, does he?” Stiles asks.

“He probably does, yeah,” Isaac shrugs carelessly. “I’d say he’s more pissed about the cancelled meeting, though.”

“You boys have a good time?” Derek asks as he walks up the driveway.

“It was okay,” Isaac says nonchalantly.

Stiles could never imagine having a dad as relaxed as Derek is with Isaac. He feels compelled to say something, given that they’ve taken advantage of Derek’s home and trust. “It was fine.”

“Good,” is all Derek says.

“It’s cool if Stiles crashes here, right?” Isaac says. “Only I said he could, and I doubt his dad would be too happy to see him in this state.”

Derek looks at Stiles. “Yeah,” he eventually says, evidently deciding that the sheriff would probably murder Stiles if he came home drunk.

“Thanks, Mr. Hale,” Stiles mutters.

“Don’t mention it, Stiles.”

“Thanks, dad,” Isaac says.

When they follow Derek inside, Isaac immediately heads to bed, leaving Derek to deal with Stiles.

“We don’t have any of the spare rooms set up yet,” Derek says apologetically. “I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with the couch. I’ll get a pillow and some sheets for you.”

As Derek leaves the room, he sees Stiles sway a little where he stands.

“And a bucket,” Derek mutters as an afterthought.

When he returns, he finds Stiles sitting on the couch, his head in his hands.

“You okay?” Derek asks.

“Nope,” Stiles groans through his hands.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” his voice is muffled by his hands.

“Okay, then,” Derek says as he deposits the sheets and pillow on the couch. “I also brought you some aspirin. I’ll leave it on the table. You can get water in the kitchen.” Derek sighs. “I don’t know the details, but for what it’s worth, I know that Jackson’s an fucking idiot. You’re a good kid, Stiles, you’re handsome, smart and funny. You can do so much better than him.”

Isaac must have said something. Great. Derek must think he’s a loser kid who can’t get over his ex. But Derek thinks he’s handsome, smart and funny? That’s... good, right?

“Yeah? Maybe you’re right,” Stiles says as he runs a hand through his hair. “Although, I think I need a change. I’m sick of boys. Boys don’t know what they want. I need... I need a man.” He looks at Derek. “You’re a man.”

“Glad you noticed,” Derek says with a laugh.

“No, I mean -”

“I know what you meant, Stiles.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asks in a way that he thinks sound flirty, but it comes out tipsy. “So, uh, how about it? You wanna do something sometime?”

Derek chuckles at him. “Stiles, you’re drunk. Crash here tonight, and I’ll call your dad and tell him that you and Isaac zonked out playing video games. I’ll drop you back in the morning.”

Stiles laughs drunkenly. “Isaac’s right. You _are_ cool.”

It’s only later when Stiles’ hangover clears and he gets flashbacks of the conversation he had with Derek that he realises what Derek said. Or, more precisely, what Derek _didn’t_ say. He didn’t say that Stiles is only 17 and much, much too young for him. He didn’t say that Stiles is his son’s friend and there’s no way he’d go there. And more importantly, he didn’t say that he wasn’t interested.

Interesting.

****

His phone reads just after five in the morning. He doesn’t know what wakes him, but it’s probably the birds. Or the sun shining through the window. Fucking nature. His head is slightly fuzzy, but surprisingly not thumping, and he doesn’t feel like throwing up. _Huh, no hangover... Result_. Still, though, he gets a glass of water from the kitchen and swallows the aspirin Derek had gotten for him the night before. 

He sits on the couch for a second more and thinks over what he’s about to do; what he wants to do. Stiles is taking a risk. He knows it, and yet the potential rewards far outstrip the losses. He likes Derek as a person, he’s fun and he seems like a good guy. And yet, he’s willing to lose him as a friend if it means he even has a chance of getting in his pants.

He creeps up the stairs quietly, his stomach coiling with nerves. Hell, if he’s gonna do it, he may as well do it now; then if he’s rejected by Derek he can blame it on his non-existent hangover. He turns the knob of Derek’s bedroom door and opens the door slightly. The door, thankfully, doesn’t creak and he slips inside the room. Maybe he’s a creeper, but he’s horny, he figures it’s justified. Leave him alone.

The figure in the bed shifts then rolls over. Stiles can see Derek’s face towards the door, but his eyes are still closed. Derek sleeps naked. Good to know. Apparently, Derek’s in the middle of a particularly exciting dream. Stiles can’t draw his eyes away from his hard-on; fuck, Derek’s big. He wonders if this is what Allison meant when she said that Isaac was well-hung.

Stiles walks over to the bed but walks on a creaky floorboard. Suddenly, Derek sits up in the bed.

“Stiles?” He asks groggily. “You okay? What are you doing here?”

“I meant what I said last night,” Stiles says, surprised by the confidence in his voice. He decided to take Isaac’s advice and skip the angst-y crap. “I need a man. I need a man to show me a good time. Can you show me a good time, Derek?”

Derek groans. “Stiles, we’re not having this conversation. You’re 17, I’m _39_. You’re my son’s friend. You’re _underage_ , and you’re hungover. You should go back to sleep.”

“I could go back to sleep here. With you,” Stiles says. “And I’m not hungover, I can recite the alphabet backwards to prove it if you want.” Derek scowls at that. “And who gives a fuck about age? It’s just a number; in other countries, hell, in other _states_ I’m legal. And I’m not a virgin, Derek, if that what you’re worried about. I know what to do. I know what I want, and I want you.”

“Stiles -”

“You _do_ want me, don’t you Derek?” he says, and for the first time sounds unsure. “I wasn’t just imagining it?”

Derek swallows audibly. “Stiles, you’re an attractive kid, but I can’t -”

“Why not?”

“Well for one thing, you’re the sheriff’s son, I’m not getting arrested because you -”

“I won’t say anything.”

“And for another,” Derek presses. “My son, _your friend_ , is asleep next door.”

“I can be quiet,” Stiles says. “Let me prove it to you Derek, please.”

Derek creases his brow and Stiles takes that as an opportunity to move further towards the bed, eyes trained on Derek’s hard-on, and sees it twitch. _So, Derek is definitely interested, then_. Derek follows his train of sight and grabs the sheet to cover himself.

“No, don’t,” Stiles says.

Derek stills his hand. “Stiles,” he says warily.

“Derek,” Stiles says, mimicking Derek’s tone.

Derek groans. After a few seconds of silence, he asks, “You want this? Are you _sure_ you want this?”

“I want this,” Stiles whispers. “I _really_ want this.”

“Fuck,” Derek mutters to himself, shaking his head as if he can’t believe he’s about to say what he’s about to say. Smirking at Stiles, he says, “Put your mouth to good use then. Suck me off.”

Stiles grins and crawls onto the bed, licking his lips.

He meant what he said, Derek’s well-hung. He’s a good eight inches and he’s not even fully hard yet. He’s definitely a grow-er _and_ a show-er, unlike Jackson. _Don’t think about Jackson, now_. Derek’s uncut too, which is a novelty.

He takes Derek’s cock in his hand, feeling the weight of it. He starts to jack Derek off, testing his boundaries. Derek grunts as he does so. “I thought I said ‘suck’, not ‘jack’.”

Stiles looks up at him through hooded eyes and smirks. “Pushy,” he says. Still though, he takes the hint and tongues at Derek’s foreskin, tasting him; Derek groans and Stiles smirks. Jackson always said he was good at giving head, although Stiles thought he was just saying that. It’s good to have his skill validated.

“Good boy,” Derek groans, running his hand through Stiles hair. Stiles grazes his teeth lightly over the slit of Derek’s cock. Derek hisses and Stiles thinks he’s blown it, but Derek just pulls on his hair firmly. Stiles smirks. Derek likes it rough... good.

Stiles runs his tongue along Derek’s shaft as his right hand goes down to Derek’s balls to roll them between his fingers. Derek grunts, and Stiles realises he likes that he’s vocal; it makes it easier for Stiles to know what he likes.

“C’mon, stop teasing me,” Derek says.

Stiles grins and places a kiss to Derek’s shaft before he takes the head into his mouth and sucks hard.

“Fuck!” Derek groans out pulls on Stiles hair again.

Derek’s too big to get much further than halfway down before he’ hits his gag reflex. Already Stiles can feel tears about to pool in his eyes and before he can splutter, Derek fortunately realises what’s happening, releases his grip on Stiles’ hair and says, “It’s okay, baby. Slowly.”

Stiles pulls back a little until he’s comfortable and Derek uses his thumb to remove the tears in Stiles’ eyes.

Stiles bobs his head faster along what he can comfortably manage, looks up to Derek and sees his eyes are closed and his head slightly thrown back and mouth open slightly. Stiles recognises that Derek’s close.

“You’re so good, baby,” Derek praises. “Gonna make me come.”

Stiles nods whilst still having Derek’s cock in his mouth. He must look ridiculous, but he doesn’t care.

“Don’t wanna come just yet,” Derek says. “Wanna fuck you. You want me to fuck you?”

Stiles whines and nods around his cock again.

Derek smirks. “Good.”

Derek cards his fingers through Stiles hair again and pulls slightly, and Stiles goes with it, reluctantly letting go of Derek’s cock.

Derek smirks again at how debauched Stiles looks. “Lie on the bed for me.”

Stiles pulls his boxers down and takes off his t-shirt. He then happily complies and lies down beside Derek. Derek himself gets onto his knees. “Finger yourself for me.”

A command like that shouldn’t go straight to Stiles’ cock, but it does. Stiles places his feet on the mattress and sucks two fingers into his mouth to wet them, before going to his hole and pushing one in carefully, testing himself, before placing the other at his entrance and pushing the two in together.

He sees Derek kneeling there, stroking himself slowly. “So good for me, aren’t you?” He asks.

“Uh-huh,” Stiles says as he starts to scissor himself open for Derek.

His cock is starved of attention and whilst fingering himself, he uses his other hand to touch himself.

Derek sees the movement and replaces his hand for Stiles and begins to jack him off. Stiles groans with relief and probably bucks off the bed. Derek chuckles at him.

“So good,” Derek croons, encouraging Stiles. “I want you to come for me. Can you do that?”

Stiles shakes his head and mutters, “Want to come with you inside me.”

“Kinky,” Derek says with a laugh. “We’ll do that too, but I need you to come so you’re more relaxed for me.”

Stiles nods reluctantly.

“Good boy,” Derek says and begins to jack Stiles faster. “Keep fingering yourself.”

Stiles does as he’s bid. He’s close, he can feel the orgasm building inside him. Derek’s hand feels so good on him, just the right amount of pressure. That added to the fingers inside him make him shake a little.

“You’re close,” Derek recognises. “That’s good. C’mon, baby. Come for me.”

Stiles comes then, arching off the bed. He spills onto his belly and he feels Derek’s hand still on his cock as he comes over his fingers, Derek squeezing all of the jizz out of him.

When Stiles’ breathing has returned to normal, he looks up to see Derek smirking at him.

“Wow,” Stiles says.

Derek chuckles at him. He then lifts his come-covered fingers to Stiles’s mouth. “Suck.”

Stiles looks at him warily.

“You’ve never tasted yourself?”

Stiles shakes his head.

“Try it for me?” Derek asks.

Stiles bites his lip before nodding and opens his mouth to accept two of Derek’s fingers.

His come tastes... not all that different from Jackson’s, if truth be told, but it’s still weird tasting himself.

Derek leans down and kisses him then. That sends a spike of pleasure through Stiles’ body. Derek tasting Stiles’ spend on himself? Yeah, that’s a whole lot less weird and a whole lot more sexy.

“So good for me,” Derek says as he pulls away. “You want me to fuck you now?”

“Please,” Stiles whines.

Derek chuckles again. “Okay, since you’ve been good.”

He reaches over to the bedside table and pulls out a bottle of lube and a condom. He rolls the condom on himself and pumps some lube onto his cock and spreads it around. He then squirts some more and scissors Stiles open with lubed fingers.

Stiles groans and shudders a bit from the coldness.

When Derek figures they’re both lubed up sufficiently, he gets off the bed, stands by the side of it, pulls Stiles two legs so that he’s lying at the edge of the bed and hooks Stiles legs around his shoulders. Stiles finds that he gets off being manhandled by Derek.

Derek positions his cock at Stiles’ entrance. Stiles feels the head of Derek’s cock enter him and he moans loudly. Derek stops suddenly and places a hand over Stiles mouth.

“Ssh, baby,” Derek says. “Isaac’s a heavy sleeper, but you’re gonna wake him up. Need you to be quiet for me. Can you do that?”

Stiles nods, but Derek keeps his hand over Stiles mouth as he enters him fully. Stiles can’t help groaning, but it’s muffled by Derek’s hand. Once he’s fully inside the boy, which takes a blissfully long time, Derek removes his hand.

Stiles pants a little.

“You okay?” Derek asks, concerned.

“Big,” is all Stiles can mutter.

“Take it easy,” Derek says, kissing the insides of Stiles’ thighs. “Tell me when you’ve adjusted.”

Stiles nods in acknowledgment. When he feels like he’s ready, he nods, says, “Okay,” and Derek starts to move.

He pulls out slightly and pushes back in. Stiles grunts with the feeling and Derek chuckles. After he’s done this to sufficiently stretch Stiles, he pulls out fully, and when Stiles moans, feeling empty, Derek enters him again, not stopping until he’s fully sheathed in him once more. Stiles can’t help it, he groans loudly. Derek stops immediately and kisses him, trying to swallow Stiles’ noises.

“Sadist,” Stiles mutters against his mouth.

Then, from next door there’s the sound of a bed squeaking, the floorboards creaking and a door opening. Clearly they’ve woken Isaac up.

“Dad?” He calls groggily from outside. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, kid,” Derek calls back as Stiles bites his lip to keep from moaning again. “Just got a sore back, that’s all. I must’ve pulled a muscle whilst moving, I’m gonna get a massage later.”

“Okay,” Isaac calls back, sounding reassured.

They wait until Isaac’s been to the toilet, until he closes his bedroom door and until they hear the squeaking of the bed as he gets back into it before they feel like they can breath again.

“A massage?” Stiles asks with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yeah, you’re giving me one,” Derek responds with a smirk.

Before Stiles can respond, Derek goes back to thrusting in and out of him, fucking the words out of Stiles’ mouth. Being fucked by Derek is much better than a sarcastic retort, so he goes with it.

On one particularly long stroke, Derek hits something inside of Stiles that makes him jerk. “Fuck!” He groans out.

“That’s your prostate,” Derek grins, proud of himself for finding it.

“Again,” Stiles whispers. “Do it again.”

Derek complies and brushes against Stiles’ prostate. He alternates between long and slow strokes and sharper, shorter ones. Stiles can’t control it anymore, he feels another orgasm building inside him even though he came less than twenty minutes ago.

“Gonna come,” Stiles mutters.

“Again?” Derek asks, impressed. “Okay, baby, come for me.”

Derek angles himself and fucks into Stiles roughly, hitting his prostate more sharply than before. He does that again and again until Stiles can feel the orgasm building. Derek doesn’t let up, though, and Stiles comes with just a couple of strokes of his cock. He comes again, right over the dried come on his belly from earlier. As he rides it out, he squeezes his hole so much that Derek groans and his pace becomes less sure, and more erratic. He’s close, Stiles can tell, and fucks himself back onto Derek cock as much as he’s able.

“Fill me up, Mr. Hale,” he says with a smirk.

Derek looks down at him, eyes wide, before he stills for a second and Stiles knows he’s coming, filling the condom inside him. He then collapses over Stiles, and Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s sweaty back. 

****

They’re lying there, both sweating and both blissed out, and Stiles’ back is stuck to the bed sheet. It’s gross, but it’s so good too.

“Well, you certainly know your way around a man,” Stiles says as he runs his hands over Derek’s chest, playing with his chest hair. “Jackson certainly pales in comparison.”

Derek chuckles. “Jackson didn’t make you feel good?”

“Jackson didn’t know how to make me come,” Stiles confesses. “I don’t think he even knows what a prostate is. He was more of a stick-it-in-and-hump-until-he-came kinda guy. You, on the other hand... wow.”

“I’m glad I could oblige,” Derek jokes. He then sighs and turns serious, “Stiles, you need to know that I’m too old to get possessive over you. I’m not gonna stop you from going back to Jackson, or from getting another boyfriend if that’s what you wanna do. They probably won’t make you feel the way I do, but I’m not gonna stand in your way.”

“Trust me, after that performance, I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere else,” Stiles says. He then gets concerned and says, “This wasn’t just a one-night stand, was it? We can do this again, right? Just have a little fun?”

“Stiles -”

“’Cos that’s not what I want, Derek. I know you think that I’m too young for you,” Stiles starts babbling, “and I know you’re my friend’s dad, but I meant what I said, I want you and I -”

Derek cuts him off by kissing Stiles. Stiles grunts in surprise and then decides to go with it, letting Derek take control.

When Derek pulls away, he says with a grin, “I suppose we can have a little fun.”

Stiles breaks out into a grin. “Really?

Derek nods.

“You’re not just -”

“You talk too much,” Derek interrupts him, before slipping his tongue into Stiles’ mouth and kissing him deeply.


End file.
